


In a Flash

by Fier



Series: In a Flash [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Blind Character, Blindness, Case Fic, Disability, Disfigurement, Emotions, Explosions, F/M, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, LGBTQ Themes, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26133478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fier/pseuds/Fier
Summary: In a flash, life changes.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: In a Flash [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897696
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> _2002 Silver Sutures Winner--Best Long Story_
> 
> TITLE: In a Flash  
> AUTHOR: TCS 1121  
> EMAIL: TCS1121@hotmail.com  
> SPOILERS: References of eps.through Season 6  
> RATING: Hard R-for sexual situations, make it NC-17 just to be safe  
> CLASSIFICATION: X (casefile), Profiler!Mulder with a twist  
> KEYWORDS: MT, MSR  
> ARCHIVE: As You Wish  
> This entire story is archived at the Enigmatic Dr's site. Go here: http://x-files.bytewright.com/ if you're missing any parts.  
> Or go to: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi2/xfilesfanfic/iaf.html and read it from my new site.  
> DISCLAIMER: 1013 owns all herewith. Ideas only are exchanged.  
> SPECIAL THANKS TO: Editor!Ron for spelling and punctuation, Laura Savadow for being a wonderful first audience and cheering section, and Rachel Vagts for notes and encouragement.
> 
> And to my friend, KEstabrook.
> 
> * * *
> 
> DEDICATION: I have had the privilege of having Michelle Keifer as my Beta Reader. Her patience and encouragement kept me on track, kept me going, but mostly, kept me honest. I could not have done this without her.
> 
> Thank you, Michelle.
> 
> * * *
> 
> SUMMARY: In a flash, life changes. Or, Mulder has been blinded and Scully has been disfigured by an explosive blast.

> Thank you, for loving me  
>  For being my eyes when I couldn't see  
>  For parting my lips when I couldn't breathe  
>  Thank you for loving me  
>  Thank you for loving me
> 
> \--Bon Jovi

* * *

The rugged landscape was beautiful but bare as the hot sun glinted off the top of the rocks. At the bottom of the ridge, two figures ran hard and fast away from the cliffs. The rocky terrain bit their ankles, and sweat soaked their clothes as they tried to negotiate the ruts and stones.

There was no cover and no shelter in this canyon, and the man knew they were not going to get the distance they needed in time.

They were not going to be able to outrun it.

The woman behind called to him, her voice tinged with panic, "Mulder!"

"Keep moving, Scully!" he shouted. "Go, go GO!"

He could see the countdown timer in his head and knew they were only seconds away from the blast. Scully was breathing hard as she ran past him, obviously determined that the rocks would not slow her down. She got several yards ahead when her cuff snagged on an outcropping. Losing her balance, but gaining momentum, Mulder watched as she slammed face down into the large stones.

"Scully!" It was too late, Mulder looked up and saw an incredibly bright flash of light and felt a rush of heat barrel into him. The force of the blast threw him to the ground, and the heat and debris flying overhead pinned him down.

He blinked twice to clear his eyes which were suddenly clouded white. In that slow motion moment, he heard Scully's gurgled breathing ahead of him, and unable to see, Mulder groped an arm out to reach for her. Trying to stand, he blinked again only to be met with another, more intense flash ...then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Mulder awoke disoriented and soaked with sweat. Scully's cool hand was firmly pressing his chest as she shook him gently. It took a few moments for him to realize that she was speaking to him.

" Mulder, calm down, it's okay. We're here, right here, shhh."

"Scully! Get DOWN! ... Scully?"

" Breathe Mulder, just breathe -it'll be all over in a few minutes, I promise." Scully's voice was still sleepy but very close to his left ear. Mulder assumed that she had fallen asleep next to his hospital bed.

He was trembling, but his breathing quieted and his heart rate slowed. He asked, "What time is it?"

In the dark, he heard Scully's voice, "It's 2:40 AM."

He groaned and wiped the back of his hand across his lips and cheek.

"It was a bad one tonight, wasn't it?"

Scully's warm voice drifted over him, and his trembling slowed.

Mulder felt the mattress shift and heard the unmistakable click of a light switch. But why was it so dark? Where were the achingly familiar hospital sounds? There was no pain; in fact no discomfort at all except for the feel of his sweat soaked tee shirt sticking to his skin.

"Scully?"

"Yeah, Mulder?"

"What are you doing in bed with me?"

He heard a short chuff of laughter, then a small hand cupped his cheek, turning his head toward the sound of her voice.

"I must not be doing it right, if you have to ask."

Something was very wrong here. Her response made no sense to him, and he shook to clear his head.

"Scully, what the hell is happening?" He started to tear the sheets down, when Scully grabbed his wrists, "What the fuck is going on?"

"Mulder, listen to me.."

"Answer me, Scully! Am I in a hospital?"

"Oh Mulder," Scully said gently, "You had another flashback. Try to stay calm."

He was becoming agitated in earnest now, and his voice zeroed in on her. "We were running. There was an explosion, and I know we were too close to be safe from it. You, you were thrown to the ground."

"Easy, Mulder. Just slow down a little." She let go of his wrists, and he twisted away from her, spilling pillows onto the floor.

He sat up forcefully, and, staring straight at her, said, "You couldn't breathe. Christ, Scully, you were choking on your own blood and then there was a huge flash." Mulder began to panic. Beads of sweat began to reappear on his forehead. His recall of the event was now vivid and clear.

"Oh God, Scully! I couldn't see. I tried to get to you, but I couldn't see you." He stopped abruptly, gasping for breath, turning his head wildly.

"Scully, I can't fucking see anything!"

"I know, Mulder. I know." She sat up and began stroking his damp neck and back, all the while repeating, "I know, I know. It's been like this for quite a while." Her soft voice was very close to his ear. "It's OK. The confusion will pass. Try not to be afraid. You'll remember it all very soon, I promise."

"I remember it all now, Goddammit! Please, Scully. Tell me the lights are off, or that it's just very dark in here. Please tell me I'm in a hospital. Oh fuck." Mulder sobbed the last words as his voice trailed off.

Scully was silent for a few moments. He could hear her swallow a few times and knew she must be preparing to tell him something awful. Something he knew he didn't want to hear.

"You're not in a hospital, Mulder. You're home, in your own bed. You've just had either a vivid dream or an actual flashback of the explosion."

Mulder turned away with a sob of disbelief as his hands rubbed at his face.

Scully took his hands away from his eyes and said gently, "Listen to me Mulder. I know what's happening, and I think I even know why. Please trust me, let me talk, and I'll explain. Can you do that? Please?"

The softness in her voice, the gentle touch of her fingers on his eyelids, and the proximity of being in the same bed with her, gave him a brief sense of calm. Mulder always trusted her. He'd have to trust her now.

"OK, Scully," he said in a shaky voice. He took in two deep breaths, then said, "But this better be good."

He felt Scully's chest rise as she took a deep breath herself. She cupped both his hands in hers, then said, "This -confusion - you're experiencing has happened before, Mulder, and I've found it works best if I start from here and work backwards."

"What 'works best'?"

"Sorry, it's what I call 'the drill.' It's the sequence of events that lead up to your life as it is now. As I said, these flashbacks and the...uh...disorientation you're experiencing, have occurred before, but not for some time now. I've found that if I tell you how far you've come and how well you're doing, then you won't have to wait to see how it ends."

"I doubt that I'll 'see' how it ends." Mulder said in a trance-like voice.

"Try me, Mulder. Please."

He nodded in the dark, except then he realized that it wasn't dark to her.

"We're in the midst of profiling a very difficult case. So far this year, three young gay men have been found dead under mysterious circumstances. We've been called in to do the profiling. Because of the strange condition of the bodies, the Violent Crimes Section felt that, because of our unique experiences, the X-Files Division was best qualified to deal with this."

Mulder shifted his weight and said, "So I'm still in the Bureau."

"Yes, you and I are both still in the Bureau, and we occasionally work an X File or two. And we're still partners with an enviable solve rate. Technically, we consult for the FBI, but the paperwork's pretty similar.

"This current case has been taking your mind all over the place. You've been delving deep into those dark places, Mulder. I was pleased to see you actually get some sleep tonight. I don't think you've slept for the past three nights. Of course, there was a price to pay for tonight's sleep. Your mind decided to relive the blast."

Mulder shuddered. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the re-cap of the event that changed his life. Without thinking, he faced away from Scully and said, "Do I know how to have a good time or what?"

She gave a short hum of agreement before continuing, "The blast occurred while we were still working on Domestic Terrorism. You know how we both hated investigating farmers and questioning them about their supply of fertilizer, but these inquiries led us to find the other nitrogen-based bomb Krycek kept hidden. And if we'd known we were even looking for it, it would have been a perfect position of operation."

"I remember that, Scully. I remember that we found out where Krycek stashed the other device, even though it had been years since we returned from Terma."

"Yeah, but it was a set up. We tipped our hand too soon on that one, and Krycek got wind that we were on his tail. Actually, it was by pure accident that we found it. If we had known that this high explosive device had Krycek's name on it, we would have treaded far more lightly. As it turned out, he _did_ put our names on it. We tripped it, and it blew. Weeks later, you said that you could see the countdown timer in your head. Ticking our lives away."

"I could, Scully. If I try, I can still see it." Mulder said with a sigh.

"Then don't try." She ruffled his dark hair gently. He got the feeling that the hardest part of the drill was about to come up, and she took a deep breath to continue.

"The flash from the explosion was so intense that when you looked up...Mulder, I'm so sorry, but when you looked up, both optic nerves were destroyed." She paused and placed her head on his chest. His heart began to pound, and a gasp of disbelief escaped his lips. She paused again, then placed a kiss over his heart and another one on each tear that scrolled down his cheeks. He felt her wet cheeks against his own, and after brushing them dry, she was ready to continue.

"Skinner has always admired and respected your insightful mind and 'unique' thought processes. It was his idea to keep us in the basement. He worked out a deal with the Violent Crimes Section that if you and I could keep the X-Files open, your talent would be on loan to them when needed. You see, Mulder, we found that those incredible leaps in intuition, logic, and poor judgement were actually enhanced by your lack of visual distraction. You are a very successful profiler. Besides, Skinner thought you never looked where you were going anyway."

"Intuition, logic and poor judgement, Scully? How could the VCS resist me?"

"You're very, very good at what you do. Correction, _we_ are very good at what we do," Scully added.

Mulder turned his face to her and asked, "How do you fit into all this, Scully?"

"I'm your eyes, Mulder," She said simply. "We investigate the crime scenes, reports, and photos together, and I read and describe them. Because we've been partners so long, I know what details you need and how to convey the facts to you. You're able to see through my eyes, Mulder, and by God it works. We don't always agree as to what I'm seeing, but we still get a paycheck twice a month."

"Why can't I remember any of this?" Mulder lifted his legs over the side of the bed and sat up on the edge. He then realized he'd only been wearing boxers with the tee shirt. His hands came up to dry wash his face for a minute before speaking into his palms, "You're so calm about this, and I'm ready to run out in the street, screaming. Shit, Scully, don't you get it? I can't see, I can't remember any of it, and I don't know what you're doing in my bed!"

In a carefully controlled voice, Scully said, "We don't know why this happens. We don't know what happens in that complex mind of yours that would make you suddenly forget. We had you tested by psychologists the last time this happened, and the only thing they could come up with was it was a unique form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." She paused, and with a smile in her voice said, "Unique only to you, Mulder. But as disconcerting as these episodes are, they usually coincide with a breakthrough on the case you're working on."

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?" Mulder said incredulously. "You've got to be kidding!" He felt Scully slip out of her side of the bed and heard her padding over to stand in front of him.

She took his hands in hers and said intently, "I don't know why it happens, but I do know that it means that you're close. Close to finding the murderer, and soon the killings will stop.

"Mulder, your mind is so focussed on taking this killer down, and saving the lives of innocent young men that your own life takes second place. You'll see, Mulder. Soon you'll remember; it will all make sense, and a killer will be brought to justice."

She dropped his hands and, even though he couldn't see her, he knew her eyes were shining.

He waited a few seconds, and with his head bowed, said softly; "Well you've answered two of my three questions. Why I can't see, and why I can't remember. Do you have an answer for the third?" He raised his head to face her. "Why you're in my bed?"

There was a long silence, and for a moment he thought she wouldn't answer him. To lighten the mood, he tried, "Unless blind guys are your thing now? Scully, I wish I'd known before..."

"Shh, Mulder." She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "Just give me a second."

A hint of fear crept into Mulder's mind. 'Oh my God,' he thought. 'She feels sorry for me. She pities her blind partner and doesn't know how to say it.'

He felt the mattress dip beside him and knew she was sitting to his left. When she finally spoke, he could tell that she was facing away from him.

"Scully, I..."

"Mulder, it's fine. It's just... it's just that you've never had to ask about this before. About 'us' before."

He heard her take a shuddering breath before she continued.

"You know, when other women see us together, they can't understand why you're with me." Her voice became stronger as she faced him again. "You look very handsome in your sunglasses."

He couldn't understand why she suddenly decided to change the subject, but he brought his head up and patiently faced in the direction of her voice.

She continued, "And the way we walk, I can steer your direction with short verbal cues and holding your hand instead of guiding you by the elbow. It looks like we're out strolling, hand in hand. They truly don't understand what that mysteriously handsome man in shades is doing with a woman who looks like me."

She stopped and shook her head silently, but Mulder heard her hair rustle about her face.

"You say you remember, at the time of the accident, that I was choking on my own blood?" She paused, apparently waiting for Mulder to answer.

"Yes." He said slowly, dreading the end of the story, but not knowing why.

"The choking you heard came from blood running down my throat. My face was pretty well lacerated by the fall I took into the rocks and the flying debris from the blast."

Scully took both of Mulder's hands in hers and placed his fingertips on her face. She lightly ran his hands over the surface of her forehead, cheeks, nose, and lips. He felt a spider web of scars and raised adhesions. Her nose felt misshapen.

"The plastic surgeons did the best they could, and considering what they had to work with, they did a fairly good job. But I look much different now than when you last saw me." She forced a smile to his fingertips as Mulder sadly closed his eyes.

"Oh Jesus, Scully, I'm sorry." He let his hands fall to his lap. "I'm so sorry."

Scully's weight shifted as she faced him and said softly, "Don't you get it, Mulder? I feel like I'm using you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Mulder, to you I'll always be 34 and pretty. You have no idea of what I look like now, but I know exactly what I look like. I look at my face every day in the mirror and see what the blast has done. I had no idea how important it was to me, to be an attractive woman, until it was taken away. Through your eyes, Mulder, I'll always look as I did before. I kind of think it's sick, using a blind partner that way."

There was a long, humid pause. Mulder sat silently with his hand across his forehead. His partner's hitched breathing was the only sound in the room.

"Scully," he said finally, " you've given me a lot to think about. But the first thing I need to ask...what I need you to tell me...Do you really think I'm handsome?"

She chuckled suddenly and released a long breath."If you recall, I believe I said you were, 'a mysteriously handsome man.' And, yes, I've always thought so."

"No kidding? Huh?" He smiled to himself, as a picture of his young, beautiful partner entered his mind. Partner? Wife? He wasn't sure. "So Scully, do you use my name now?"

He heard a simple but smiling, "No."

"Well anyway," he continued, "I think you have a few things mixed up. I don't think it's fair that you'll watch me grow old, gray and, God forbid, possibly bald while you get to stay young and beautiful forever."

He quirked an unseen smile at her, and she replied, "Sounds like you're in it for the long haul. What with this 'old and gray' and 'do you use my name now' talk."

He reached over to her and found her hand. Nuzzling it to his lips, he dropped small kisses along the length of her palm.

"The long haul, is right," he said then dropped his voice to a serious note, "Not only that, but if a miracle occurred and I suddenly got my sight back, it wouldn't matter. I can only tell you, that in my heart I know, Scully, that it wouldn't matter. You will be beautiful to me. Because you always have been. Because you are. I could never see you any other way. They say, 'Love is blind' and my love is."

Scully's watery voice came very close to his ear, "And so is mine."

His lips found hers, salty with tears. Suddenly, there in the darkness, the answer to his third question became crystal clear.

"Double entendre becomes you, Agent Scully." He said, smiling as he kissed her once again for good measure.

And for good measure, she kissed him back. Then he felt as she reached over him to pick something up from the bedside table.

"Here." She handed it to him. "See if you can get some sleep. Maybe things will be clearer to you in the morning, although that's not the way it usually works."

She kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth, and the sheets moved as she scooted over to her side of the bed. Again he heard the light switch as she clicked it off.

She sighed sleepily as she turned onto her side. After a few minutes she whispered," 'S'okay Mulder, use it. It won't bother me, I turned the brightness all the way down."

_"This is CNN."_

_"And now, for the latest weather travel conditions."_

_"I know, Cher, this beauty product turned my life around."_

* * *

Morning came, and Scully was right. Things were not clearer. The panic Mulder felt as he awoke made him sick. He was in utterdarkness. His eyes were wide open, but there was nothing for him to see. His breaths came in short gasps, and a mantra of "wake up, wake up, wake the fuck up" came out in measured sobs.

Scully must have been out of the room when he began dry heaving. He barely heard her enter the bedroom as he sat doubled over on the edge of the bed. Speaking softly yet firmly she said, "Mulder it's me. It's morning and it's okay. Remember what we discussed last night? Trust me, you're okay, we're both okay...Mulder."

Feeling her move in close, she placed her hands to either side of his face, steadying him as his eyes traveled wildly around the room.

"Mulder, look up at me!" she yelled.

"I can't fucking see, Scully! There's nothing!"

"Yes you can Mulder. Look at me; you will see me."

"Scully. It's black...oh shit...oh shit"

"I'm right here. I'm right here."

She soothed him with her hands and her firm voice; Mulder closed his eyes and shook her hands off. She began speaking very steadily, "Mulder, open your eyes."

He opened his wet, sightless eyes and faced the direction of her voice.

"Listen to me, and you'll find out how you have to do it now. How you'll be able to see. It's just not the same as you did before."

Scully waited a few seconds then he felt her move away. "I'm standing right in front of you. You know that, don't you?"

He nodded slowly.

She continued, "My red hair is all mussed up from sleeping. It's in my eyes right now. I'm wearing your gray Knicks shirt, because you know how much I like wearing that to bed."

She paused a moment before continuing, "We're in our apartment, which used to be mine. The sheets you're sleeping on are white, and the comforter wrapped around your legs is light blue, almost the color of my eyes. You know what my eyes look like, don't you?"

Red messy hair, gray Knicks shirt, ScullyBlue eyes? Yes, yes, he could see them. He closed his eyes and listened to her voice.

"There are candles on most of the shelves in here. They're scented; smell them, Mulder. I lit them last night before going to bed, then we both blew them out before going to sleep."

He inhaled deeply through his nose and found there was a faint aroma of lavender still in the air.

"We had Chinese take out last night. I gave you all the nuts from my Kung Pao chicken, remember? We thought we'd be up all night working, but we both had way too much Tsingtao- that Chinese beer you like. We were tense from working and needed a break. Lick your lips, Mulder, taste the beer and spices from last night's dinner."

Almost involuntarily, he licked his lips and swallowed. The flavor of last night's dinner was faint but definitely on his tongue. The beer and the chicken, hot with spices. He swallowed again.

And discovered another flavor.

Her low voice drifted to him in the dark, "It's morning and I've opened the curtains. The sun is streaming through the window; can you feel it?"

Mulder noticed that the right side of his face was warmer than the left. The window was to his right, and the sun was coming in from there. He nodded to her, and she continued, "Give me your hands, Mulder."

He reached his arms out in front of him. She took his hands and placed them on her chest.

"Can you feel this? Can you feel my hands covering yours?

He said, quietly, "Yes, I can feel them. Your hands are wet probably from filling the coffeepot. Your heart is beating.... beating with mine. I feel my heart and yours; their rhythm is the same." He sighed, and warmth filled his voice, "You're soft and strong, all at the same time."

He briefly touched her face with his left hand and whispered, "And so beautiful, Scully. You are so beautiful, especially when you smile. I love to touch your smile." And with two fingers of his right hand, he did.

The smile was still in her voice as she said, "Listen, Mulder. Listen. What do you hear right now?"

"I hear the shower dripping and the coffee perking." He paused and turned his head toward the warmth of the sunlight.

"I hear the soft street noises of the cars passing, the birds singing, and people talking. But what I hear most, what I've always loved is the sound of your voice. The way you raise it when you're angry, and the way you lower it when you're sad. Theway you pause as you search for just the right word. The confidence, sarcasm, humor, and the strength of it. And your laugh...your laughter is life to me, Scully."

"So, you can still smell the candles, Mulder?"

"The lavender scent of the candles, the clear scent of your perfume, the clean smell of soap and sheets, and the scent of sweat and musk. Yes, Scully, I can smell it all."

Scully's voice got quieter still as she brought her face to Mulder's, their foreheads almost touching. "Can you taste last night? Can you remember the taste of our dinner, the taste of he beer, the taste of each other?"

"Yes, Scully. Yes, I still have the taste of you on my tongue."

"The sunlight, Mulder?"

"I feel it warm on my face. I feel the currents of air as you pass in front of me. And I can feel when you're close to me."

"You can see me now, can't you?"

"Scully." He reached again.

"Tell me what you see, Mulder." Her voice faded slightly as she stepped back.

"Yes Scully, I see you standing a few steps in front of me with a gray Knicks shirt on and nothing else. But you're so small that my shirt comes all the way to your knees. Your hair is a mess, but it's cute the way you keep blowing it out of your eyes. I like to smooth your hair away from your face as you sleep."

He turned his head towards the bed. "I love the sound of your breathing while you sleep."

He continued, "I see our bed; the sheets and comforter have been pretty much destroyed by our lovemaking and my ... nightmare.

"The candles line the shelves in here, and there were so many to blow out afterward. We were afraid they'd cause a fire -but then again, we were rather drunk at the time. There's coffee brewing in the kitchen, and there are two large mugs waiting on the table. A cereal bowl is waiting on my side of the table for me to pour Frosted Flakes into, and a container of vanilla yogurt is waiting on your side."

"Wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Blueberry."

Mulder smiled and shrugged, "Ok, blueberry. But you're right, Scully, I _can_ see now. You're beautiful and sexy, and you love me."

"Damn right," she said with a smile in her voice.

"And I'm beautiful and sexy, and I love you." He reached for her again.

"Well in _your_ case, two out of three. That ain't bad, and I'm not complaining." The air currents shifted as she stepped into his outstretched arms. She hugged his neck and kissed the tendons at his throat. Finally her voice sighed, "We'd better get this show on the road, we've got a lot of work to do today. We have a killer to catch."

"Okay," he breathed as he leaned over to nuzzle her neck lightly then said, "Scully?"

"Mmm?"

"Steer me to the bathroom, then point me towards the kitchen."


	3. Chapter 3

Mulder thought that it should seem strange, going to work in the basement that morning, but it wasn't. Scully drove them in and, as she said, took his hand and led him to his office. His extraordinary memory for detail supplied most of the information he needed when maneuvering in a building he'd been in before. Plus, he had the use of Scully's hand or soft cues if he needed them.

The maneuvering between the two of them was easy and practiced. Wearing his sunglasses inside the building was something he'd not remembered ever doing before, but even that didn't feel strange. He wasn't sure why, but he became more and more convinced that his memories would soon return. Everything was beginning to feel normal.

They encountered a few other agents along the way to the elevator. Scully quietly let go of his hand as Mulder tried not to make it obvious that he had no idea what was going on. The small talk soon ended, and Mulder noticed that there had been no trace of pity or rancor in their voices. These agents seemed to enjoy talking to him. Scully had said that they were a successful and enviable team.

Could he be successful and respected?

What a kick that would be. No longer a joke to his peers, an embarrassment to his superiors-no longer a pariah. It would almost make the loss of sight worth it. Not to mention the fact that Scully loved him, was proud to be seen with him, and apparently enjoyed having sex with him regularly. He couldn't believe that she was disfigured as she'd said, but it didn't matter.

Let the sighted world worry about it. Here in his world, she was perfectly beautiful.

Scully said that their current case contained apparent serial murders, now labeled as an X-File. Because of the memory setback, he needed her to fill him in on all the facts. He wondered, for instance, how long they had been working on this case.

Entering their basement office, she again let go of his hand, and he easily found his way to his desk. In fact, he knew he could navigate this most familiar environment with his eyes closed. Or open now, as was the case.

Did his office always smell like stale pizza?

On his desk were what felt like tapes and recording devices. He recognized the remote control to his office VCR as well as the telephone. The keypad had raised bumps on the numbers to confirm that his fingers were pushing the right buttons. There was a device to the center right of his desk that was unfamiliar to him.

Scully must have been gathering files together as he heard her rifling through a stack of them.

"Go ahead, Mulder. Put your hand in there."

Mulder figured that she was indicating the strange machine on his desk. His slipped his hand in a slot found in the front of it. His fingertips encountered what felt like the heads of straight pins. He gently rubbed the surface and realized that the raised pins formed a letter of the alphabet. He moved the device, then more letters, and then a word appeared on the tips of his fingers. This machine enabled him to scan a document, and in essence read it.

"That is very cool," he said.

"Yeah, that's one of your favorite toys," Scully's smiling voice told him.

She nudged his hand to remove the document he was reading and replace it with a new file. The letters changed, and a new set of information was literally at his fingertips. She'd given him a newspaper account of the latest murder, while she continued to hunt noisily for the information she needed.

It sounded as though she'd pulled several more files and was setting them in some sort of order.

"I'm going to save us both some time, Mulder, and read the current folders to you. It helps me when I hear them read aloud, so I hope that's okay with you. You can go over them later if you want to review them."

"OK, but you are not to leave anything out, Scully. No matter how trivial or unimportant it may see to you." He was serious. He wanted to impress upon her that his ability to do the job relied on her honest, objective, and full assessment.

That was a mistake, and he instantly regretted it. Her anger, like darts, homed in on him. " _Agent_ Mulder. I am fully aware of my responsibilities in this partnership."

"Scully...Scully...sorry," he interrupted her before she could continue. Holding both hands up, surrendering, he said, "C'mon, cut me some slack here."

The temperature, which had risen suddenly in the room, seemed to cool a bit. His hotheaded partner simmered to a slow boil before saying, "I'll let it go this time. But you need to know that whatever information we get, we share 100%. We are a team. We do this together. No holding back any facts, any thoughts, any feelings, any theories, no matter how insignificant they seem. You don't get to keep me in the dark, just to get even, and no ditching. Ever. Got it?"

Mulder heard the controlled temper in her voice. "Sorry, I'm still getting used to this."

"I know." She sighed, obviously exasperated, "I know you are, so you're forgiven. But the team rules still stand."

"Understood." He sat up straight as his eyes stared blankly behind the tinted lenses. After a few moments he began drawing circles with his index finger on the desktop, then said, "But accusing me of keeping you in he dark 'just to get even' seems kinda harsh, don't you think?"

A light chuckle came from in front of him, "I guess you don't remember using a variation of that line on me then, huh?"

He made a mental note to ask her about that later.

Folder after folder opened, and Scully began to read the contents. Her low voice was familiar and soothing as she related the facts:

"Three young, gay men have been found dead within the past year and a half in the Fells Point area of Baltimore. All of the bodies present with disfiguring manifestations, especially on the face.

"No definite cause of death has been determined, but all of the organs, including the skin appear aged. The deaths are spaced approximately six months apart, and this is now the established pattern. Or at least until the pattern changes. The condition of the bodies is consistent: the skin, especially on the face is disfigured by what appears to be age, and the internal organs also appear far more worn than the victim's actual age would indicate. These men ranged in age from 22 to 31 years old.

"Tox screens and chemical analysis of the bodies have been inconclusive. There is a massive electrolyte imbalance and breakdown of connective tissue and bone mass in each of the bodies. The murder weapon is thought to be some combination of poisonous chemicals these men ingested. But so far, none of the supposed poisons have been identified.

"The VCS is looking for someone on the prowl to kill gay men. And they would have liked to make this a 'simple' gay bashing crime, but the cause of death and the condition of the bodies are baffling them."

Scully stopped a moment, and Mulder heard what sounded like her pencil scratching paper. He tapped his pencil on the edge of the desk and asked, "Are we looking into another angle other than the 'gay bashing' one? Somehow, Scully, I don't think the fact that these victims were gay is as important as the VCS thinks it is."

"I know, Mulder; you said exactly that. Here's one of my notes where I quoted you as saying, 'I don't think the homosexual element is the most relevant fact, but I think it might be the most convenient motive for the VCS to follow up on.' This is one of the preliminary notations I made to help you work the profile."

Mulder concentrated on the texture of the pencil's eraser for a moment, then said, "Scully, when were we called in on this case?"

"You're going to love this, Mulder. We were asked to join the investigation right before the third body was discovered. It seems that the VCS was working on several profiles, all of which crashed and burned. As the UNSUB's deadline of 6 months came around, we were called in. Of course, there had only been 2 bodies in one year, so there really wasn't much of a set pattern. Still,one of their profiles suggested that the next murder if committed by the same perpetrator might be done around the 6-month mark. So, they chanced it, and you got called in right before the last murder."

"So not all of their profiles fizzled," Mulder said resigned. "They knew another murder was going to take place."

"No, they didn't know it, but they felt their time was running out. Six months was the time interval between the first two bodies. I know they called you in, because you're the expert in profiling bizarre cases. By being involved early on, you could get an up close and personal look at the case. It was pretty smart, actually."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, it got you on the case at the time when, if a murder was going down, you would be there to look at the pieces of the crime right from the start, and you could start your profile with fresh facts.

"You weren't expected to stop it from happening, you were supposed to observe it if it happened. You are their best hope if we are to keep it from happening again. It was a compliment, really. They've been very grateful for your input."

 _A compliment?_ Mulder thought. The Violent Crimes Section treating him like the expert and requesting his assistance just as their profiles were drying up? Since when had Spooky Mulder been treated as an expert by any division of the FBI? He would have to ask Scully about this later. But for now, he needed to hear the rest of the background.

But---

"Before you continue, Scully, I have to correct you on something."

"Mulder, are you beginning to remember? Are the facts of the case coming back to you?" she asked with a hopeful lilt to her voice.

"No, not yet. But I do remember something you said just a few minutes ago. About us being a team. You keep saying the VCS called _me_ in to investigate and to draw up _my_ profile, that they're grateful for _my_ input. I'd appreciate it if you'd include my partner in this recitation. She and I are a team, you know, and she happens to be invaluable to me." He removed his sunglasses and tried to manage what he hoped was a stern look on his face.

Of course he couldn't see her, but he could almost feel her blush. To earn the respect of the VCS or to fluster Scully. He didn't know which pleased him more.

With mock seriousness, he said, "Now continue."

More page flipping then, "Well, I did the autopsy on the latest victim. His name was David Graham aged 22. He's the youngest so far. Kevin Owens was the first victim, aged 31, found almost a year before Graham. Christopher Nicholas, found 6 months after Owens, was 27 years old at the time of death.

"Witnesses state that David Graham was seen frequenting the bars in Fells Point, on Friday the 28th of last month. There's always a lot of night life in that area of Baltimore, especially on the warm summer nights we've been having."

Mulder rememberd bar hopping in Fells Point when he was much younger and lived on the Maryland side of DC. He'd begin over on South Broadway to eat some of Bertha's mussels then wandering over to the Cats Eye Pub on Thames Street, and usually making it over to South Ann Street to the Wharf Rat Bar. He smiled as he remembered how tough it was walking around on those brick and cobbled streets when drunk. 'Those were the days,' he thought and sighed a nostalgic sigh.

Scully continued her reporting, "By all accounts, David was a party loving guy, with many friends but no steady romantic involvement. He'd come up to Baltimore from Annapolis to meet some friends and do the bar scene. His friends lost track of him around one in the morning, but didn't think much of it. They were all loosing track of themselves by that time.

"Around 2:30 AM, David Graham's body was found in an ally over in Canton, that's the neighborhood adjacent to Fells Point. He was unrecognizable except for the clothes he was wearing. Positively identified through his fingerprints. He wasn't even gone long enough for anyone to have noticed he was missing. We got the call and were one of the firsts on the scene. His body was still warm. I was able to perform the autopsy almost immediately."

Mulder grimaced. He knew that Scully was used to slicing and dicing murder victims in all stages of decomposition, but it always bothered her to cut open a body that was still warm. He heard more pages ruffling, then asked, "What did you find?"

"Well, the external examination revealed what appeared to be a very old man. The skin was wrinkled, dry, and paper-thin. The nose was bulbous, the eyebrows were bushy, the body hair was gray, and the hairline was receding. All findings compatible with advanced age.

"The teeth were yellowed, and the gum line was also receding. The spine showed an extreme kyphosis, and the joints of the hands and knees were enlarged --consistent with arthritic changes.

"His eyes were clouded with cataracts, and overall muscle tone was loose and flabby, although he was a young man in good shape. There was bruising around the lips, but other than that, there didn't appear to be any sign of assault. There were no wounds or puncture marks.

"The internal examination revealed all the normal organs with their normal weight and placement. But, like the external exam, the internal exam found evidence of extreme age. Without toxicological evidence to indicate poisoning, my findings were: death due to advanced age."

When she quit speaking, Mulder was leaning back in his chair, head tilted back, facing the ceiling. He sat up and leaned on his desk toward the direction of the voice in front of him.

"What do you make of it, Scully?"

"I don't know." Her voice shifted away from him. "I've never seen anything like this before."

He moved a few inches toward her and said firmly, "Yes you have, Scully. You've seen things like this before. We've seen this before. Hell, _we've_ aged rapidly before! Don't tell me you don't remember that."

"I've seen a lot of things Mulder, and so have you. But nothing that would explain the apparent rapid aging of this man's body. This was a young, vital, very handsome young man who encountered someone who took all that away from him. His youth, his vigor, and his beauty...I mean his good looks. We haven't ever seen anything that could steal someone's youth and beauty."

"But obviously, Scully, someone or something has. Don't forget, we've seen a mutant human rip the livers of other humans and eat them for survival. We've seen a human creature that needed adipose tissue, which he sucked out of lonely women. We've even seen a man who could regenerate his own goddam head if he had a good supply of cancer on tap! Shit, Scully these things exist, and we've fucking seen them!" His voice was harsh and his breath was hot in her face.

Scully hissed through her teeth, "Why do you always have to start there, Mulder? Why do you go straight to mutant creatures before we even get the tox screens back?" She raised her voice. "There _is_ an X-File here, but it may be that someone has developed a new toxin, or a new strain of fungus, or...or a mixed up batch of bad street drugs, or, hell, it could be a disease that has up to now been unknown that may have infected poor David Graham!" Her chair scraped back, and her voice loomed down on him. "What next, Mulder? A time warp?"

"Don't rule it out," Mulder spat up at her.

"Don't _you_ ever rule anything out? Is relying on time warps and cancer eaters going to save the next young man's life?"

He slammed his hands down on his desk violently. "Goddammit, Scully, why do I have to remind you of the things you know to be true? Jesus Christ! Why do I have to pry your mind open every time we start a case?"

He huffed and pushed back into his chair. They were both silent and breathing hard.

After a few moments, Mulder took in a deep breath. He caught Scully's scent in the air. Even an angry Scully smelled good. She shifted back down into her creaking chair, and he heard as she combed exasperated fingers through her hair.

He sniffed again, cleared his throat, and said, "For the record, I don't think it's a time warp."

He felt a few gentle breaths aimed in his direction. "Mulder, why does the _Brain Sucking Zombie_ theory always have to surface first?"

Mulder replied, "Probably for the same reason you go to the _Advanced Age, Rapid Onset form of Progeria_ theory first."

The office was quiet for a few minutes. Finally Mulder broke the silence by saying, "Scully? Are you smiling or glaring at me?"

She gave a short laugh and said, "Neither. I'm pensive."

"Pensive?"

Mulder knew that very soon, Scully would begin thinking and talking at the same time.

"Mulder, Progeria Syndrome is an extremely rare genetic disease that accelerates the normal aging process in children, about seven times the normal rate. That means that a ten year old child suffering from Progeria would have similar respiratory, cardiovascular, and arthritic conditions as a seventy year old."

'Do I know this woman or what?' he thought to himself. But to her he said, "I know, Scully. Remember we investigated ..."

She cut him off. "This is a genetic disease that has no cure." She repeated, "A genetic disease." She muttered to herself, "something genetic... something no cure...hmmm.."

"Scully, I know you can see me over here. How about letting me in on this?" He knew Scully was onto something, and he wanted to share her excitement.

"I don't know, Mulder. It may be nothing, but I'm going to have some DNA testing done on David Graham's body. And on the bodies of the other victims. Who knows, maybe something similar will turn up?"

Mulder sat back in his chair, never noticing before now how badly it creaked. "Speaking of similarities, Scully, were all the victims good looking? You've mentioned at least twice how nice looking David Graham was. Were the other victims as attractive?"

"Ohh? I...I didn't realize that I'd mentioned it more than once. I guess it's to be expected that I'd notice physical beauty more now than I did before." She was trying to be clinical but she was clearly embarrassed.

Mulder softened. "Don't analyze yourself, Scully. I just need your opinion here. Tell me if these young men were handsome."

"Well, of course _handsome_ is a subjective term, but in my subjective opinion, I'd say yes. These three men were all tall, a little over six feet, I find 'tall' a handsome feature, and they all had dark hair and eyes. Other than their inherent good looks, the similarity stops there. They didn't resemble one another, if that's what you're thinking."

"It's not exactly what I'm thinking, but it's kind of what I'm thinking," Mulder said while his hand patted around his desk, searching for his sunglasses. "How long will it take you to run the DNA analysis?"

"It won't be completed for a few days, but I'll have it started immediately. I won't be needed for the whole process, though."

Finding the stem to his shades, he put the glasses on and stood.

"Good, you go get that started. While you're doing that, I'll get up to speed with the investigation so far." He went over to the file cabinet. "Are all the current files in the front folders?"

"Yes, they are. Most of the files have audio tapes of interviews, and my notes are always recorded as well as written out. "

With that, she handed the folders she had to Mulder.

"In your desk are the audio tapes you made with your preliminary profiles. Correction. Tapes 'we' made of 'your' profiles. My specialty is still pathology, but I can run a mean tape recorder."

He smiled as he started flipping through the files in the folders, removing the micro cassettes and placing other files on his desk.

After all the files were divided, he said, "We need to go to Fells Point tonight. I want to retrace David Graham's last steps, and I want to do it around the same time of night...hey Scully? Do I wear my sunglasses at night?"

She smiled a smile he couldn't see, but her voice was light as she said, "Yes, Mulder, sunglasses at night. Sorry. And not only will you wear your sunglasses, but also because of the brick streets, you'll have to take the stick. I know you don't like it, but it does help a bit over rough terrain."

"The stick?"

"Mulder, you have a white mobility cane. You don't like the fold up kind, and in fact, you don't like any kind of cane, but you know you need to use one in unfamiliar settings. I had no idea how many models of white canes were on the market, but you had to try every one. You settled on a single point white cane with a rather pointed red tip. You tried to make me call it _Mr. Pointy._ You told me that there was a vampire slayer on _Buffy_ who named her vampire slaying stake _Mr. Pointy._

"The concept of the mobility cane as a stake to kill vampires appealed to you. But I could never get used to referring to a walking stick by a proper name, and besides, you keep it in the closet most of the time."

'A white cane,' he thought. A blind man's cane. 'I guess this blind thing isn't going to go away.' He tried to paste a smile on his face. He raised his voice a little too much and said, "I guess we'll have to go home to pick it up before we leave then."

Scully must have sensed the change in his mood; "I'll get it on my way back." Her heels clicked lightly on the floor as she came over to him. She touched his arm and spoke softly in his ear, "By the way, have I told you how wonderfully 'tall' you are today?"

He grinned and shook his head, feeling suddenly lighter. "Ahh, Agent Scully. I love it when you speak in non-subjective terms."

She tip-toed up, and in a very unprofessional way, briefly touched his lips with hers. "I'll be back," she said simply, and the door snicked closed behind her.

 _How does she do it, I wonder? She knows me. Argues with me. Sees for me. Needs me. Heals me. Loves me._ He turned his face toward the door he couldn't see, and thanked a God he never knew...until now.


	4. Chapter 4

He was close to something. His heart beat faster, and his palms were slick. After listening to his profiling, he knew why he must have been up all hours of the night. The tone of his voice on the tapes, the underlying excitement as he relayed the details of the hunt. He was close, and he could feel it.

He just couldn't remember what he was thinking when he recorded it.

Scully said that this memory "confusion" had only happened when he was close to solving a case. Why did he have to be so goddamned tight-lipped when it came to some things?

Aliens? Sure, seen 'em.

Government conspiracies? Absolutely, knew the guys involved.

Mutants? Yep, we got 'em: fluke men, Mexican goat suckers, you name it.

Serial killers? Serial killers? Uh...workin' on it. Working on it and not telling a fucking soul.

Mulder knew that his method of profiling consisted of cloistering information and impressions in his mind until the picture became clear. He would immerse himself deep in a case until he could surface with a solution.

Scully was right: he was deep into this one and hadn't surfaced yet. So deep, in fact, that his memory had failed. His mind had turned to mush just when he needed it to be its sharpest. Now he had to pick up the pieces of his profile and place them with the facts of the investigation.

Unfortunately, he had only hints and clues to work with.

Listening to his profile in progress, Mulder heard the agitation in his own voice as he relayed his thoughts. He figured that these tapes were for his ears alone, since Scully's voice wasn't on any of them. He had to put his thoughts in some kind of order.

Mulder's hands skimmed his desk until he rediscovered the microcassette tape recorder he'd been listening to. He needed a method of looking at and examining his thoughts. His old method had consisted of jotting reems of barely legible notes on countless yellow legal pads. His present circumstances forced him to alter that procedure.

He placed a fresh cassette in the machine, brought the microphone close to his mouth, and depressed the "Record" buttons. His voice echoed slightly off the basement walls as he taped his thoughts:

"Young men in the prime of life. Looking for love and in love with life. All of them gay, all of them attractive, all.." He stopped for a minute and thought, 'There's that descriptive word again: Attractive.'

He continued, "Bar hopping., and beer drinking in Fells Point. Age---Cause of death was extreme age. Died of advanced age. Age. Six month intervals. Last victim was youngest. Victims getting younger, gay, attractive, beer drinking, poison. Poison? No, not poisoned. Bruised lips. Did all victims have bruising around the lips?"

Mulder's voice took on a low sing songy quality. His sentences became shorter, more disorganized. His eyes were closed as his fingers squeezed the "Record" buttons on the tape machine. He continued with his head bowed close to the microphone. "Gay. Gay's not important. Red herring, only throws us off...

"Romantically involved? Were the other victims romantically involved? Friends? Drinking friends? Only drinking? Drug use?

"Body found in Canton; who lives in Canton? All had friends to bar hop with..nobody noticed him missing..died missing... away from others..killer was with him...killer knew him...killer wanted something from him.."

His voice trailed off as an annoying sound interrupted his thoughts. He pulled his glasses off and fiercly rubbed at his eyes. That sound again; what was it? He shook his head and realized that the phone on his desk was ringing. Yanking the receiver up to his ear he blurted, "Mulder!"

"Mulder, it's me," Scully's excited voice answered. "Look, I have some..."

He cut her off. "Romantically involved? Scully, were any of the other victims romantically involved?"

She began again. "Mulder, listen. I have some preliminary results on the DNA testing and..."

Mulder didn't let her finish, "Were any of the other victims in A committed relationship!?" His voice was dangerously low.

"Mulder, I have..."

"ANSWER ME!"

"No, Mulder. No. None of the other men had committed partners. Now listen..."

He slammed the phone down in its cradle and unplugged it from the back.

Continuing into the microphone he said evenly, "None committed...no romantic relationships. Three young men...handsome.murdered... single attractive men... no significant other. Goes to bars...out of loneliness.hoping for, for....please, no loneliness...looking for love?...hoping to find...no, lost....all dead....all lost....old...alone...please, no...extreme age. They die of old age...Go to bars...They die... all of them murdered ...No! Too soon, too young ...They all die old...Alone... no Other ....oh please no, no....Died wrinkled and old... Paper thin skin. Faces distorted with age... Bruised faces....Dead and gray and....alone with the killer."

Another sound, this time from his hip. No time. No time.

Time.

Age.

Another sound. Cell phone.

"NOT NOW!!" Mulder tore the cell phone from his hip and stabbed the "Off" button.

He took a deep breath. The stale pizza smell competed with Scully's perfume and his body's sweat for attention.

He rewound the last few seconds of the tape and heard, "Bruised faces... Dead and gray and alone with the killer. (cell phone chirping) NOT NOW!!..."

He pressed the "Record" button and continued, "Body changes. DNA testing... DNA... test for.... Life is change. Changes....old....ages... dies...life...life and death... death for life....age for beauty....beauty dies...beauty lives....young men... bruised by kisses...old men, kissed by death... murdered for youth....murdered for beauty....all dead...all bruised, all kissed...."

The windows were small in the basement and set high above the floor. Very little light came in the windows, even during the bright mid day hours. The sun had long since set, and the basement office was very dark.

Of course, Mulder could no longer judge time by the height of the sun in the sky. The basement was eternally dark to him, but he knew that the night must now have robbed any light that would have come into those small windows.

He changed the tape and continued recording. "Young, and handsome. Old and wrinkled, why? Life...Life for death. How? Bruised lips. Slapped? Kissed?"

A sound. Then another sound. Then vanilla and rain. Scully was here.

"Mulder?"

"I'm here, Scully."

He didn't hear her flip on the light switch. Her clothing rustled, and the air shifted as she approached. A very small smile made its way to his lips as he realized how well she must know their office to walk so confidently in the dark.

"I have some information about the testing." Her voice was soft and careful as she spoke. A scraping sound indicated that she'd pulled a chair up to the opposite side of his desk.

He released the "Record" buttons on his recorder.

"They were killed for their youth, Scully. For their beauty and their youth."

She took a breath in the darkness and asked, "Can I tell you what I've found?"

"Kisses, Scully. Kisses killed them." His voice sounded far away even to himself.

"David Graham's DNA was altered, Mulder. Whatever killed him did it on a molecular level. I collected a DNA sample from his home in Annapolis. I compared it to his current DNA, and they don't match. They're close, but they don't match."

"Kisses murdered him, Scully. Changed him...aged him. Changed all of them. Check the others; they were all changed."

"Yes, Mulder. David Graham was changed, he aged and he lost a piece of who he was. I don't know how, but it happened."

"Stolen. A piece of him was stolen and replaced with... with what?"

"His youth was stolen, and his beauty was stolen. His cellular structure was altered, and that was how he was murdered." Scully's voice took on Mulder's cadence, and her voice dipped towards him in the dark.

"The murderer wanted to be young and handsome, so he changed his own DNA. Stole it from David Graham. Changed it with a kiss, killed him with a kiss...how? How, Scully?"

"Bruising around the mouth, Mulder. Point of entry. Mouth, lips, teeth, tongue."

"His heart, Scully. The point of entry was the part of him that sought love. He had no lover, no romantic involvement. He was looking for love and found death wrapped around a kiss."

Mulder leaned on his elbows, his hair brushing hers as they spoke, their foreheads nearly touching as they shared each breath. Their spoken thoughts became one voice.

A female voice first. "What would be accomplished by changing the DNA structure?"

Then the male voice. "The murderer was looking for youth and beauty, and he stole them. Extracted them right out of David Graham's cells."

"Why these victims? Why David Graham? Kevin Owens? Christopher Nicholas?" her voice asked.

"They were handsome and lonely and looking for someone. They all were. They were somewhere where the killer could see them, admire them, want them."

Her soft voice continued in perfect sync with his, "They must have been in a location where the killer could lure them away without anyone noticing."

"Yes, he lures them away, then kisses them, kills them."

"The murderer does kill them, Mulder, but he takes something from them first. Something from their cells."

Almost before she finished her sentence he said, "He needs something. He takes what he needs, what he wants."

"What, Mulder? What does the killer want?"

"Their youth. Their beauty. Their lives. The killer didn't want to live his own life anymore, so he stole *their* lives."

"Why? Why did he murder these men?"

Mulder's voice was hushed, "The murderer was old and no longer beautiful. But not now. Now he is attractive and has David Graham's youth."

"How?"

"How?"

With an unspoken cue, they both sat back. Mulder tipped his head backward and let out a lungful of air. Scully's head shook, and tiny droplets of water flicked Mulder's hand.

"It's raining, Scully?" Mulder's voice asked.

"It was, but I think it stopped...it was stopping by the time I got here." He could hear her as she finger combed her hair, and felt few more drops fall on his hand.

"We have to catch him, Scully. We have to make him stop."

"Who is he, Mulder? How can we find him? Where is he?"

"The answer's on Baltimore's streets. The murderer is there; I'm sure of it. We have to go out there. Tonight."

Their office was black and breathless for a minute, then Scully's hesitant voice said, "Mulder.."

"I know, Scully. I know I can't watch your back. But we're only going so I can get the feel of things. I don't remember being out at the crime scenes, and I have to go back. I promise, at the first sign of trouble we're out of there."

His hopeful, excited voice found her in the dark.

"The first sign of trouble?" she repeated.

"And we're out of there," he confirmed.

Scully sighed loudly, "All right, all right. But you're picking up the bar tab." Her chair scraped as she moved it back.

Mulder stood, grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, and started towards the door, saying, "Just as long as you don't order any of those girly drinks. It's embarassing to pay for those."

His voice trailed off as he raced Scully to the elevator. But not before he heard her mutter, "Great, _that_ he remembers."


	5. Chapter 5

Fells Point is a neighborhood located to the east of Baltimore's famous Inner Harbor. It's known for its antique shops, restaurants, and nightlife. And because it was the location for the filming of "Homicide: Life on the Street."

Fell's Point, punctuated correctly with an apostrophe or without, is a popular part of the city. Like all big cities, Baltimore has its dark, seedy side, but this spot by the water ignores all that and shouts, "Welcome to Baltimore, hon!"

"Baltimore" being pronounced, "Ball-i-mer."

Baltimore is also where three young men met their strange and untimely deaths.

The rain had ended earlier in the evening, leaving the streets slick, and with high water waiting to be splashed. The atmosphere was festive, and the nightlife sounded as if it were in full swing apparently undaunted by the puddles.

Mulder wanted to retrace David Graham's last steps, and he insisted that it be the same time of night-or as close as they could estimate. So out on South Broadway's wet bricks, he and Scully walked, making their way to The Crabmaster's Saloon. The Crabmaster's is a predominantly gay bar with live music and no cover charge.

Mulder was unhappily decked out in his Ray Bans and white cane. He hoped he still cut a dashing figure in his charcoal gray Armani suit pants that hung just a little low on his hips and that sported pleats at the waist. He wore what Scully told him was a Pierre Cardin, light blue cotton dress shirt, with a navy blue striped silk tie. It was far too hot to wear the suit jacket.

He had to hold tightly to Scully's hand and arm to keep from tripping on the brick's raised edges and from slipping on the wet pavement. The helplessness he felt was unbearable.

'How can I fucking work like this?' he thought as his toe caught on another ridge.

He could no longer read his partner's expressions, or see her gestures. Much of their communication from before was unspoken, consisting only of a nod of the head or the flicker of an eye.

God, how he missed looking into her eyes.

He shook his head, not understanding how he could have adapted to this black and featureless place. His only link to the world around him came from the sensations he used to dismiss.

He was a visual man. His formidable memory supplied him with visual images in detail and on command. But how was he supposed to recognize a murderer if he couldn't fucking see him? By smelling him, touching him, hearing him talk? He damn well wasn't going to taste him.

He was silent as Scully expertly guided him towards the bar.

Her soft voice came from his left, "Curb cut right, two o'clock," and she nudged him in that direction.

"The Crabmasters is in the middle of this block," she said. "We'll go through the double doors, take two steps forward, then one curb step down and into the pub.

"The bar itself will be along the left wall. The bartender's name is Brad Lang, and I know he's working tonight. We questioned him right after the killing two weeks ago. He remembers serving David Graham on the night of the murder. I don't think that any of the other staff that waited on the victim are here."

The air was thick and humid from the evaporating rain. The streets of Fells Point smelled of crabs seasoned in Old Bay, ladies' perfume as they emerged from the small theatres, alcohol, rain, vomit, and piss. All the scents a good city should have.

Mulder tapped Mr. Pointy to his right and found the curb cut. While holding Scully's hand, he approached the doorway and moved to stand a little in front of her. Then he crooked his elbow and placed Scully's hand around his upper arm. Entering a gay bar with a woman on his arm was the statement he wanted to make.

If Scully noticed any of this silent posturing she made no comment.

The timeframe they were working in was from 11: 00 PM to 2:00 AM. They gave themselves some leeway since it was around 1:00 that Saturday morning that David Graham went missing, and 2:30 AM when his body was discovered in a neighborhood several blocks away. Scully's report traced the victim's 11:00 stop to be here at The Crabmasters.

Earlier, she'd told Mulder that they both had been here investigating almost two weeks before, right after the murder. They'd met with all the bartenders and servers at that time. According to Scully, one pretty, young female waitress had been so intrigued by this blind FBI agent that she very nearly pushed Scully down in order to "seat" him.

Mulder dismissed the event, but suddenly, as he stood in the foyer of the bar, something clicked. A small memory of their investigation appeared in the fog of his mind. This meaningless altercation between Scully and the waitress surfaced as clearly as though it'd just happened.

Mulder remembered hearing some icy words between the waitress and Scully. He knew that something had been going on behind him, judging by all the scuffling he'd heard. He'd genuinely thought it was funny until the waitress said under her breath, "He prob'ly has no idea what a dog she is."

As his mind replayed the scene, he winced inwardly, but hope dawned as he realized that his memory _would_ eventually emerge. Still, he grasped Scully's hand and brought it to his lips. He pressed two quick kisses to her knuckles.

As Scully and Mulder sidled up to the bar, Mulder felt her hand reach into her pocket, probably to show their identifications.

The bartender said, "No need, Agent Scully. I remember you and Agent Mulder from last time. Howya been? Any news on the killer?"

Scully raised her voice to be heard through the din of music, laughter, and clinking glasses, "Getting there, we hope. Agent Mulder and I just wanted to go through the same motions as David Graham did the night he died."

"Okey dokey. Can I get youse a drink or somethin' while you're at it?"

"No thanks, Mr. Lang," Mulder said, leaning onto the bar. "I just want to go over some things with you if you've got a few minutes. We may have gone over all this before, but I need it fresh in my mind for tonight."

He sniffed the air and decided that he couldn't tell where the onion rings started and the cigarette smoke ended.

"Okey dokey," the bartender repeated, "Shoot."

Mulder asked him to describe his last contact with the victim.

Brad Lang explained that David had come into The Crabmasters at around 10:30 PM two weeks ago Friday and stayed till a little after 11:30. He remembered that Graham had seemed a little "down in the mouth" and appeared to crave Brad's company. The latter had been tending bar on a busy night, and frankly didn't want to spend too much time with a "whining fag."

"But," Brad added as he paused and sipped a drink; "He was one beautiful boy."

Lang lost track of him after 11:30, thought nothing of it, and had no other information. No, he didn't think that Graham left with anybody. No, he wasn't overwhelmingly drunk. Yes, he was a little depressed when he arrived but seemed to be feeling betteras the night wore on. But Brad attributed it to "Bartender's Math": The improvement in one's mood is directly proportional to the amount of alcohol in one's system.

Mulder rubbed the smooth surface of the bar with his left hand and tapped the underside of the bar with the cane in his right. He tried to get a sense of the place, and sat down on a now vacant bar stool. The pub was hot and noisy. He could hear the patrons' laughing, cigarette lighters flicking, and bottle tops popping open.

Imported beer, no doubt.

Mulder's mind wandered away from where he heard Scully finishing up the questioning. He absently slipped his tie off and put it in his pants pocket after unbuttoning the top two buttons of his dress shirt. He rolled his sleeves up to the elbows and flipped up his sunglasses to rest on the top of his head. With a cocktail napkin that he discovered on the bar, he wiped the sweat from his face.

The soft scent of Ralph Lauren's "Polo" wafted up to him as he leaned back from the bar.

"It's a hot one tonight, isn't it?" a male voice probed Mulder's darkness.

"It was a hot one last night, too," Mulder replied politely.

A low chuckle, then, "You look ... very hot. Care to dance?"

He faced the direction of the flattering voice, squinted convincingly, and said, "Sorry, can't dance. I've got two left feet."

Mulder's left hand which was on top of the bar felt a large, warm hand cover his. A hot voice traveled to his ear and said, "C'mon, I'll teach you."

Before Mulder could protest, he was gently but quickly pulled to stand. At that moment, his sunglasses flopped down awkwardly over his eyes, and his white cane clattered to the floor.

Busted.

Dammit!

Mulder sat down abruptly and heard an apologetic male voice say, "Hey, I'm sorry. I thought you were being coy with the 'I can't dance' line." The voice chuckled. "I guess I would've been insulted if you'd used the 'I can't see' line on me. I really hate that one."

Mulder's lips spread into a grin as he faced toward his "date." He said, "Yeah, I usually wait to see how the first date goes, and then see if I have to spring that on 'em."

Scully's pretty voice came from his other side, "He waited until our third date and *then* tried that line."

Mulder felt her hands cup the tops of his shoulders as she stood behind him. "But by that time, I had his car keys, and he needed a ride home."

Mulder closed his eyes, tilted his head down and smiled, "Yeah, my driving sucks."

"It certainly does."

A young, amused voice said, as its owner stood, "Well, you don't dance, you can't drive worth shit, and you like redheads. I just don't see how this could work out between us. But if you ever change your mind about the redhead thing...."

A long finger briefly touched Mulder's lips, then moved away.

Mulder felt Scully lean into him as she whispered in his ear, "I can't take you anywhere. But he is the best looking guy in the place....not wearing shades." She handed him his cane.

"Yeah," Mulder said as he stood and took Scully's hand, "But I'm spoken for. And besides," he dropped her hand briefly to adjust his glasses, "You still have the car keys."

* * *

They walked out of the pub and headed over toward South Ann Street. Mulder allowed himself to experience the sensations surrounding him. The warm summer night was still humid from the early rain. Puddles were splashing under his shoes, and Scully's soft hand was firm in his, guiding his way. This moment felt natural; it felt right. Through all their years together, he thought, Scully had been guiding his way all along.

Scully stumbled and muttered, "Dammit," under her breath.

Mulder caught her arm and steadied her. "You okay?" he asked as he held her up.

"Yes, I'm okay," she said haughtily. "Jesus, Mulder, and I wore the two inch heels tonight instead of the three inch ones because I knew we'd be walking on the brick streets."

"Scully, we're not on the brick streets now."

"Shut up, Mulder."

"Besides, the difference between being 5'5" and 5'4" is hardly worth the trouble."

When Scully said nothing, Mulder thought, _I didn't realize you could actually_ hear _someone glare at you._

He clamped his teeth on his lower lip and bit back a grin. After a few more blocks, they arrived at Peg Leg Jim's Saloon. There were two short steps up into the bar, which he maneuvered without Scully's help.

This bar seemed bigger than The Crabmaster's and sounded very crowded.

Scully said, "It's a little past 12:30, and by our estimation, David was here right around this time before he was killed."

"Tell me what you see," he asked. "This may very well have been the place David Graham was last seen alive."

Without hesitation, Scully described the scene.

"To the left is a long horseshoe shaped bar with about twenty people sitting on bar stools. A couple of dozen more are standing by, either drinking or ordering drinks. One of the bartenders is the same one we questioned almost two weeks ago. His name is Connor Lambert, and he claims to have served David Graham drinks up until the time Graham left the bar at around 1:00.

"There are two other female bartenders working tonight. I believe one of the female bartenders, I can't remember her name,also remembered seeing David here on the night in question.

"There are four or five small, two seater tables close to the bar and a few more larger tables at ten and eleven o'clock, set further back. Along the walls to the right are booths, and it seems that they're all full right now."

Mulder interrupted her, "Why can't you remember her name, Scully?"

"What?" she asked, surprised.

"The female bartender. Why can't you remember her name?"

"I....uh...I have it written down somewhere. Why? Is it important?"

"I don't know. You don't seem to think so," he said simply as he moved forward.

 _Seltzer water being poured makes a crackling sound_ Mulder thought as he maneuvered towards it.

"Ahh, the Fibbies are back," the bartender's voice smirked. "Here on business, agents...or for pleasure?"

"We're still on the clock, Mr. Lambert," Mulder replied genially.

"Agent Scully, doesn't he ever let you have any time off?"

Connor's voice drifted softly past Mulder to connect with Scully who stood behind him. "You're going to have to ditch him one of these nights and come out and play."

She remained silent as Lambert resumed, "I'm sorry, Agent....sorry, what's your name again?"

"Mulder."

"That's right; sorry Agent Mulder. Is there anything new in the investigation? Catch the killer, yet?"

"We're closing in on something. It won't be long now."

"Won't be long, huh? That's great. Then Agent Scully will have some time for pleasure after all." Again Lambert aimed his voice behind Mulder.

"Mr. Lambert," Scully's tone was business-like, "You stated that David Graham was here from about 12:30 to 1:00 AM on the night in question. That's not very long. Wasn't he having a good time?"

"Well, Agent Scully, many of my gay customers tell me that they can get in a whole lot of bar time if they hop them real fast.

"Some of 'em really like to go the distance." His voice oozed over her.

"Sometimes when you're lookin' for love, it doesn't take very long to know that you're in the wrong place."

Mulder positioned himself where he hoped was directly in front of the bartender, "Yes, but he left while the night was still young. Did he seem depressed or upset to you? Did he talk to you about where he might go or what he might do next?"

"Agent, you know better than any of us what it feels like to be dancing in the dark. This guy was alone and lonely in a crowd."

His voice came from slightly above him. Mulder guessed that Lambert must be on the tall side. 'Just my luck,' he thought. Scully liked tall.

The tall voice continued, "But, yeah, he came in alone and wasn't having much luck with the 'clientele' here. I'm sure he must have been feeling unloved and unwanted. But, hey, we all feel like that sometimes, don't we?"

"Do you, Mr. Lambert?" Mulder asked. "Ever feel unwanted?"

Mulder heard a throaty chuckle, "Well, it's a little different for me."

"Why, because you're a little different from the rest of us?" Mulder continued.

Lambert ignored the question and said, "This guy who got himself killed must'a figured he'd only feel like a new man if he got away from this place. He needed new blood, so he left. That's how I see it. But it sure looks like it turned out to be the kiss of death for him."

" _Kiss of death._ That's a peculiar turn of a phrase, Mr. Lambert."

"You think so, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder stood aside and smiled, "Thank you, Mr. Lambert. We've got everything we need from you. You've been very helpful."

"I hope so, Agent Mulder. I aim to please. Speaking of aiming to please... Agent Scully, whenever _you_ feel lonely or unloved, you know where to find me."


	6. Chapter 6

Mulder tripped but caught himself as he rushed down the two short steps to the street. Scully was holding his hand, and he felt her stumble as he almost brought her down. Mulder's cane was waving wildly on the sidewalk as he rushed up the street, dragging Scully behind.

"Slow down, Mulder! Jesus Christ! What was that all about in there?"

"Canton. Which way's Canton from here? Show me the ally where they found the body." Mulder moved his head right and left, trying to ascertain his location.

"What _is_ it with you tonight? What _were_ you and Lambert talking about in there?"

"It's him, Scully. I know it is."

Scully said nothing, but he heard an exasperated snort.

"Scully, you were in there. You heard what he said! He just about admitted it..."

Mulder stopped his aimless walking and suddenly turned towards her, "Wait a minute. You _did_ hear what he said in there?"

"Yes, Mulder, I heard everything he said in there. Except that I had the advantage of being able to observe his body language as well."

"And what was his body saying?"

She hissed a breath through her teeth and said, "He was putting one over on us, Mulder. Everything he said and did in there was done to throw us off."

"Why would he do that, Scully? And why would you ignore all the innuendoes? I expected you to take his head off and hand it to him."

"Because, Mulder, all his innuendoes were lies."

"Why do you say that, Scully? Because he was coming on to you? You think everything he intimated was a lie because he was flirting with you?" Mulder was truly baffled.

"I'd say more like amusing himself at my expense."

"Aww Scully, don't say that."

"Mulder, I'm used to the looks I get sometimes. The best I hope for is to be looked at with a neutral eye. But he went all out the first time, nearly 2 weeks ago, to look me in the eye, joke with me, talk to me. He's young and he's handsome, so he really didn't need to try to impress me. And he tried it again tonight."

He took her hand and brought it to his chest as he spoke. "Is it so hard for you to believe that a man couldn't see past...couldn't see past and see how beautiful you really are?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, "It doesn't work that way, Mulder."

Mulder felt an odd sensation in his chest. He was mildly alarmed until he realized that it was his heart breaking.

Dear god, this woman he cherished, this woman who completed him, didn't feel that she was whole. _Let the sighted world worry about that_ , he'd casually thought. Apparently for her, the sighted world was a cruel place. His blind eyes didn't care. But her eyes could see, and every day she saw in the mirror what everyone in the world saw. Sweet Christ, could it really make her that happy to have someone just look her neutrally in the eye?

It was all he could do to keep from crying out and cursing a God who had done this to her.

Instead, he licked his lips and tried to speak without stuttering. "I'm sorry, Scully."

"Sorry?" she said with genuine surprise. "Why are you sorry?"

He paused for a heartbeat then said, "You...uh... you may be right. I'm so bent on catching a killer that I'm losing all objectivity here. I'm getting impressions and shaping them to fit the puzzle."

"Your impressions are usually valid, Mulder, and I shouldn't have dismissed them so easily." She continued leading him towards the dark Canton neighborhood. "Besides, I don't know how valid my impressions are any more."

He gently squeezed her hand before saying, "What do you mean?"

"Well," she paused and cleared her throat, "I actually thought Connor Lambert was much better looking the last time I saw him."

"Ohh?"

What was that? A stab of jealousy racing through his chest?

"Yeah, when we questioned him right after the murder, he seemed to be...I don't know... he was just gorgeous. That sounds out of character for me to say, I know."

Mulder's spine felt a familiar tingle, and the base of his scalp began to crawl. Keeping his voice under control he said simply, "Go on."

"Well, when we first walked into the bar two weeks ago, all the women were swarming around him. It was hard to get a good look at him until he came over to us. Mulder, I swear he looked like a Greek work of art. It was as if all his features were chiseled in marble. Hard and smooth and ... He was beautiful, Mulder."

"What about tonight, Scully? How did he look to you tonight?"

"He's still a very handsome man, there's no doubt. But he just wasn't as striking tonight. Not as sharply beautiful as I first thought. Little things. Things I can't really put my finger on. Slight shadows under the eyes maybe, softer, less defined features? I'm not sure. Oh well, I guess maybe it's just that the thrill is gone."

Then Scully's voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper. "Maybe I just imagined him differently in the first place. The mind can play tricks on you, you know."

"But I don't think yours did, Scully. In fact it all makes sense."

They were far away from Fells Point now and close to the small ally where the body had been discovered.

"Something makes sense to you, Mulder? I'm musing about a young, good-looking bartender. That doesn't even make sense to me," she said self-depreciatingly.

"What's the real crime here, Scully? Was murder the real motive? Did the perpetrator decide that he was going to go out and find young, gay men just to kill them?"

"Well, whatever the true motive was Mulder..."

He cut her off. "No. The motive wasn't murder, the motive was theft. The killer must have some method of rearranging his victim's cellular structure, or trading DNA with his victim in order to alter his own. He does this to steal the youth and appearance from his victim. That's why the bodies are old, ugly, and shriveled.

"I'm thinking that the murderer has to have a _fix_ around every six months. If he doesn't, his own appearance begins to fade, and his age starts to show. So at the six month mark, he has to pick his next source of ... _youth._ But not just any person will do. Because of his vanity, the killer chooses a handsome, young man. He figures since their cell structures mingle with his, he might as well splice on some good handsome genes to go with that youth.

"Now where do you think the ideal place would be to meet the men that fit his needs?"

He turned toward Scully.

Her voice was soft, but she said with conviction, "In a gay bar."

"Right. He could pick his next mark anytime he wanted. He just had to make sure that there was no other person in the guy's life at the time. He preys on his loneliness. He offers the promise of something lasting and manipulates the circumstances until he finally gets the chance to kiss him.

"Then the change happens, and it happens fast. All of a sudden, the kiss turns eternal...and the man, looking for love, dies old and still alone. The thief has gotten away with the treasure of life and youth."

"I can't buy it, Mulder. Nothing in medical science could even come close to explaining how something like that could happen. It's just a fairy tale made up in your mind to explain...."

Mulder felt Scully's hand torn from his. A hard blow to the back of his head made stars appear behind his eyelids. All of a sudden, the pavement was wet under his face, and something warm and wet was dribbling down the back of his head. He felt a sudden ache at his hip and chest and realized that he'd landed on his cane. He had the vague notion that someone was calling to him.

Yes, it was Scully's voice.

"Mulder!" he heard, then her muffled cry.

Trying to catch a breath, he breathed, "Scully...?"

He heard her cry out again, and he felt a foot make solid contact with his face, gashing his cheek.

The unmistakable sound of the bartender's voice made its way to his ears.

Lambert said, "You're a damn fine looking man; Mulder, you know that? You're making me think that a little peck on your lips might be a good idea."

Lambert's voice turned away from Mulder. "What does he see in you, I wonder? Oh, that's right! Nothing! His blindness certainly works to your advantage, doesn't it."

Her steely voice came back, "Let us go, Connor. It's over."

A harsh laugh erupted and echoed in the empty alley. "Over? He's got to be kidding! I've got you where I want you, and he can't do anything to stop me. Unless he's outfitted with sonar."

He laughed again and said, "Honey, you don't think something like he described could happen? Well, I'm going to show you how it's done first hand. I just feel bad that your partner bleeding on the ground over there won't get a chance to see what happens to you when I do. And _you_ sure as hell won't be able to tell him."

Mulder struggled to his knees and leaned heavily on his cane for support. With as much strength as he could muster he said, "Leave her alone, Lambert. I already know what you can do. Leave her alone."

"Actually," Lambert did something that made Scully whimper, "I really _like_ women, and the reason I do it with the handsome fags is so I can look nice for my ladies. I have to be careful when I kiss my ladies, though, because I don't want to kiss 'emtoo hard. I don't like older women." He chuckled and made kissing noises ... at Scully?

"Goddamit, I hate those faggots. Jesus, they're always coming on to me like I'm interested. All night long, I have to fight off every boy who wants a fuck or a suck."

Mulder heard Scully wheeze like she wasn't getting enough air, and his voice came back a little stronger. "So you killed them? You hunted to kill handsome fags?"

"Fuckin' A. And they didn't even know I was doing it. Stupid pussies didn't even realize it until I had my tongue down their goddam throats. By that time I'd sucked their fucking lives out. Just like I'm gonna do to your partner right here. Damn it'll be nice to suck a woman dry for a change. But I don't think this one will do me a whole lot of good in the looks department."

Mulder made it to his feet, but he was swaying so badly he needed to lean on his stick.

"Damn, Mr. FBI, I wish you could see this. I never get tired of watching it happen..."

Mulder concentrated on the sound of Lambert's voice, as it talked and laughed. He heard him breathing. He was close, so close.

"Mul...Mulder...."

Mulder took in a breath and found Scully's scent floating faintly in the humid air. How her scent clung to her and shifted in the air around her. And he could smell her fear.

He licked his lips and tasted his own blood. Blood and hurt and evil and death. He tasted it all as he swallowed it off his tongue. He tasted how close the evil was.

He held his cane in both hands and felt the solid weight of it.

Words from days ago appeared in his mind. Scully saying, _You can see me now, can't you?_

_Yes, Scully, I see you, you're standing about 6 feet in front of me. Lambert has one arm across your throat, and he's cutting off your air. He's choking you. You can't move because he's got your arms pinned behind your back. He's moving as close to you as possible because he's getting ready to kiss you. But you're so small he has to bend way down to reach your mouth. He's going to kill you._

Hoping that his aim was true, Mulder dashed at Lambert. Using his cane like a spear, he struck fast and hard, bearing all his weight into the hilt of the cane. He heard a heavy body hit the ground, then a smaller body splash into a puddle. His own momentum carried him several feel farther, and he went down hard onto the pavement.

"Scully! Jesus, Scully!!"

"...Mulder... here."

He could barely hear her voice, but he heard her wheezing breaths. He scrabbled across the pavement, listening hard for her. The smells in the alley were potent. The coppery odor of blood mingled with the shit smell of dying.

He crawled over the wet pavement to where he heard Scully's labored breathing. His own breathing sounded loud in his ears. The gravel on the street bit into the palms of his hands as he picked his way over to her.

He was on his knees and, like a blind man, his arms moved in all directions, searching for her. When his fingers finally found the soft fabric of her blouse, he dragged her wet little body close to him. He heard what sounded like a sob within a wheeze as he pleaded, "Oh god, are you okay? Jesus, Scully please tell me that you're all right..."

Then he realized that the little sob had come from his own lips. He ran his fingers lightly around her face and hair. His ears filtered Scully's hoarse voice through the distant street sounds and he heard, "I'm okay, Mulder. I'm okay..."

It wasn't long before he heard a cacophony of footsteps, shouting, and sirens. His trembling arms held her tightly to ease her shaking breaths and gasping coughs. He wrapped himself around her and rocked with her on the wet pavement until help arrived.

* * *

Mulder found out later that his cane had, indeed, found its mark. The mark in this case was the attacker's cervical spine. Mulder's cane had impaled Lambert's neck, snapping it. He had died instantly.

The investigation concluded that Mulder had acted in self-defense and in the defense of his partner, whose wrists and neck, the report noted, were still bruised.

The autopsy of Lambert's body found nothing extraordinary, and the method Connor Lambert used to kill his victims is still unknown.

The X-Files Division had closed the case on a gay-bashing murderer after all.


End file.
